


A walk in the dark

by Julie_Anne



Category: The Charioteer - Mary Renault
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 11:46:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17827973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Julie_Anne/pseuds/Julie_Anne
Summary: Day 7Prompts - “Love is many things, none of them logical.” -William Goldman/ comfort/ blackRalph went out to buy stamps. It could have happened like this...





	A walk in the dark

**Author's Note:**

> I got late, this should have come up yesterday.  
> Still, it's the last day and I had tremendous fun.  
> Thanks to everyone who read, left kudos and commented.  
> <3

It was a fairly good walk to the Post Office and back. It was damned cold, and Ralph buried his hands deep in his coat’s pockets. The wind went through his clothes and whistled in his ears, and that sound made the cold feel even colder.

He had written the letters and felt drained. He didn’t want to think anymore. There was nothing left for him. He had lost his ship, he had lost half of his left hand, he had lost Spud… There was nothing left to make him hold on to a life not worth living. There was no one left to miss him. Everything he touched turned to ashes. If only he could stop thinking, if it was possible to just walk, always walk forward, to keep walking, with his mind empty, completely blank, one step after another, to the ends of the earth…!

\- I’m not drunk… - he whispered to himself, to ascertain it wasn’t a rash decision born of one gin too many. He hadn’t taken a single drink all day.

He walked on, fighting the bitter wind. Inside his pocket, the soft leather of his glove was biting into the raw knuckles of his right hand. For a few seconds he was childishly proud of his own restraint. He had wanted to kill Bunny but had only delivered a couple of blows. Why? Well, he couldn’t tell. There was nothing left for him. Spud… He didn’t want to think about Spud either!

People passed him on the sidewalk, he could hear scraps of conversations, disconnected, like the things that come to one’s mind in a nightmare before it becomes too dangerous and one wakes up. «… incendiary, haven’t you heard…», «… what’s this bread made of, I wonder…», «… damned blackout…», «…I say, Sally...», «… up to you, ducks, I told ‘im…», voices approaching, sounding clear and then fading away as people walked on. Why were there people on the sidewalk, why couldn’t they all go home and leave him be?

He walked faster, to get away from it all, and because he had to get to the Post Office before it closed for the day. He couldn’t just leave the letters like that, some one might open them. He couldn’t depart and not explain it all to Spud, to Alec, to… well to the few people who cared. He didn’t want to have to wait, to go on with that farce another night: pyjamas, brushing teeth, lying in bed staring into the pitch-black darkness of the blackout, falling asleep, eventually, because the body has its needs, waking up tomorrow and remembering it all again. Spud…Oh God, the things he’d said! Spud looking at him, the sheer disgust in his eyes: « ** _I suppose you can’t help it by now. Too many Bunnies in your life._** », and he was right, of course, that was what really hurt, the kind of pain Ralph couldn’t handle. It was no use, really, there was nothing left for him…

A single bell rang when he entered the Post Office, and the woman behind the counter said: «We’re closing!», but then she looked up, saw he was in uniform and something in his eyes whispered «Please…!»  as clearly as if he had said it, so she smiled and said: «Maybe just this time…». Ralph asked for the stamps, searched in his pocket for some lose coins, paid, thanked the woman, who was short and plump and had a motherly smile, and left.

Outside, the wind still blew, colder than before. He turned up his collar and sunk his left hand in his pocket again, the stamps in his good hand. Damn cold! He started his way back, retracing his own steps. There were less people on the street now and they were walking faster, hurrying home, away from the bitter cold. But he walked slower now.

All kinds of disconnected thoughts were rushing into his mind. There was no use in trying to will them away, it was impossible not to think. He knew it. School, and Spud looking at him in elated adoration. Oh, Spud! No, he didn’t want to think of that now, it was all gone, ancient history! A stronger gush of wind blew in his face. Damn!

The grey, dismal life he’d had since leaving school. How the War had given him a purpose. How pathetically dreary must your life be, when you need to be saved by war? He managed to smile at the rhetoric questions he’d put himself. «You’re a proper mess, Ralph…»

Dunkirk. Yes, that had really been something. And Spud had been on his ship. Badly wounded, barely alive, but alive, nonetheless. He remembered the third trip, when his ship had been hit, and the sea closing over him, taking him away… He loved the sea, he’d been so tired, so cold, and it had seemed a good way to go. But then he had remembered, vividly, «Spud is alive!» and had kicked back with all his might. He couldn’t go, not if Spud was alive. When he’d seen his hand, the bloody pulp where his hand was supposed to be, he had felt the pain. It hadn’t hurt before, but as soon as he had seen it, it hurt like hell and he had welcomed the pain. Spud was alive and so was he.

He felt his face numb with cold, but still he walked slower.  When his letter had been returned, he’d thought things over, he had regretted not having sunk with his ship. Those had been black days indeed. No ship, no hand, no Spud… Still he could do something, help, be of some use. The Nazis were a bloodthirsty gang of criminals and had to be fought and defeated. Alec had helped him see things in a brighter light. Alec cared.  And, after all, Spud had returned from the dead.

The memory of Spud Odell standing among Alec’s and Sandy’s friends, looking lost and bewildered, and absurdly young – how young he looked – made his heart soften. For a minute or so the world had ceased to exist, and there was only that young man with auburn hair and hazel brown eyes looking back at him. All he had done, the good and the bad, he had done for Spud. He had survived those seven years because Spud was somewhere to be found, eventually.

The things Spud had said! It had been devilishly painful to hear. Was it worth going on if Spud thought those things about him?  But Spud couldn’t have known the truth, and he had been hurt. « ** _You’re all blunt at the edges._** » So he was… Spud was so young and knew so little, how could he have reacted differently?  Poor Spud!

\- What a bastard I was…! Poor Spud, he couldn’t have known! Andrew told him and Andrew doesn’t lie, of course he doesn’t. I don’t either, at least not to him, but he couldn’t know that…

Though he had said these words in the lowest of voices, some people passing looked at him. Ralph didn’t care. _Love suffers long and is kind._   Was he being kind? What was he about to do? How was that different from Sandy’s stunt? From Bunny’s petty bitchiness? He stopped abruptly, causing a woman to bump against him, mutter an excuse and keep on walking. He couldn’t go on with it, not anymore… Poor Spud, what a beast Ralph had been!

Love is many things, none of them logical. What had started as the only way out of an unbearable pain, the kind of pain Ralph could not handle, was now a coward’s way out, leaving nothing but misery behind. Now he was walking as fast as he could.  He had to do something. Not what he had been on the verge of doing, though. If Spud chose Andrew, then Spud would have chosen Andrew and he could only hope Spud would be happy with the boy. Would there be any chance of happiness for him if he spent the rest of his life thinking he had pushed Ralph to…? Of course, Ralph had written the letter but what was a letter against an overwhelming feeling of guilt? _Love suffers long and is kind._ Had he really been determined to…? He was better than that, surely.

As he approached the house, he grew anxious. He had to do something, something to put it right. At the door he met a tabby cat meowing plaintively and looking up with his round yellow eyes. It was Mr. Tibby, one of his landlady’s cats.

\- Hello, Mr. Tibby. Given her the slip again, have you? Come in, it’s way too cold for you outside.

He knocked on her door. The woman opened, and a big smile illuminated her pale face at the sight of the cat.

\- Oh, Captain Lanyon, thank you so much… I’ve been looking everywhere for him! Naughty of you, Mr. Tibby, very naughty I call it! Where did you find him?

The cat entered, ears down and looking rather guilty.

\- He was at the door, I think he regretted his decision the moment he left… Still, all’s well in the end. Good night!

The woman bid him good night and closed the door. Looking up, Ralph saw he had left the light on and the door open. He wanted to go talk to Alec, to see what he could do about the whole mess. Alec was much more sensible… But he’d have to put on an extra jumper or something. And, of course, put out the light and lock the door.

He went up the stairs and as soon as he entered the room, he saw Spud. Spud standing beside the hearth, holding to the empty mantelshelf, looking half dead, pale as a corpse, eyes sunken, his hair looking almost vivid red against his greyish pale skin. A wave of relief came over Ralph. Spud had come and looked quite thankful to see him. They could talk things over. Spud might even be able to stay. There was hope, and there was comfort in hope. He went in and shut the door behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> The bits in bold italic are not mine. They are from «The Charioteer» by Mary Renault and were taken from an e-book edition.


End file.
